thunder only happens when it's raining.

And suddenly I remember how I lost the first 20 pounds.

Here's a hint: my grades went to shit, I couldn't stay up past 7pm, and my body constantly hurt.

Yep, that's my reality right now. Eff.

As I was running on the treadmill yesterday, cursing myself for everything I've ever eaten and praying to Jesus that the hundredths of a mile would accumulate a little faster, I was thinking: Is this really worth it? I mean, really? Is it?

Beyond the initial burst of energy, running on the treadmill is 0.99mi of torture, ripping apart my body at every step. I could not be happier when the digital screen reads "Distance: 1.00." No, really, I could not be happier. Just a few months ago I was struggling with stairs. I was struggling with the simple task of getting around. Airplane seatbelts: my mortal enemy. Multi-level establishments without escalators: my mortal enemy. But yesterday, for the second day in a row, I have shown the treadmill who is boss.

I know it's sideways and really blurry, but that's what it looks like when you take pictures of the treadmill on your phone while running. But if you squint, turn your head sideways and pretend you're drunk, there on the left you can see the digital readout says 1:01 (kinda looks like 3:03, but I swear I'm not that much of a boss... yet).



And this beast? Day 2 of resistance level 4 on the elliptical! I've taken my daily routine from 3 miles down to 2 to account for the strain of running, though really I am doing more than I probably should. But I vowed to myself to break through this slump so that someday soon I can brag about being 25X. I don't even care if it's 259.5... I WILL GET THERE.

Something new for breakfast. Bran flakes with vanilla yogurt and blueberries. I'm in a desperate grocery situation yet again, and I had to fight every fiber of my being not to go to McDonald's to pick up my food for the day. It's not that I even want McD's, but when all you have in your fridge is cheese and onions it's hard not to feel like you're pretty fucked.



Ten Truths for Tuesday:
1. I am REALLY sore. Like, reminiscent of my first time with a guy kind of sore. Catch my drift? Except it's all over my body, from my arms (damn you cross training) to my abs to my entire legs (even my toes hurt).

2. I'm pretty sure I cried in my sleep thinking about how today is barely Tuesday. I would kill a small animal to make it be Wednesday. I don't freaking understand how I start out every single week being so utterly exhausted.

3. I've always wanted to be a runner. I was a giant bitch to this girl in high school because she was skinny and on the cross country team. I hated her based on those two facts alone (and also because she was charming and popular and smart and pretty and her parents were rich... small details). Looking back on it with ten years' hindsight, I feel really bad because it turns out I didn't hate her, I hated myself.

4. I refuse to live my life in stretch pants. Boyfriend has a really bad habit of going out in public wearing sweats (I'm not just talking about going to the grocery store, he goes to his job like that sometimes) and I find it to be really tacky on people of our size. I am well aware of the rampant fatism in this country and even though no one has ever said anything about it to my face, I would hate to give haters a reason to hate. Seriously though, as a matter of personal preference, I find it extremely important to take care in my personal appearance when it comes to clothes in public because I don't want to give people another reason to believe that I'm just a fat lazy slob. NO STRETCH PANTS IN PUBLIC.

5. I am convinced I am the only person in the history of pharmaceutical science to enjoy being on Diamox. No no no, I'm not even on Diamox, I'm taking the generic acetazolamide (for all you non-IIHers, the generic is well known to cause even worse side effects).

6. I've been living my exercise journey through two rules:

7. Go to the gym today. I never had a weight loss goal, I just followed the mantra "go to the gym everyday." But I immediately sensed a problem with the original phrasing, specifically "everyday." In my head, that meant that each day was tied to the next, and the one after that, and the one after that, and the dozens of hundreds of millions that came after. Needless to say, I got overwhelmed pretty quickly. So I changed it to say "go to the gym today." Here's why: If I go to the gym today, then I have succeeded and that makes me feel good for having accomplished something. It has nothing to do with what I did yesterday or what I'm doing tomorrow. It breaks down accomplishments into bite size portions that doesn't accumulate to make me feel like I've 60% succeeded or 40% failed. Either I do it, or I don't. And the reasons for why I don't go to the gym are purely up to me. Sometimes it's totally justified and I don't allow myself to feel bad about it, but most times when I feel the urge to skip I know damn well that I'm sabotaging myself. Going to the gym is much easier for me when I break it down this way.

8. It takes 21 days to make a habit. I know most people say "make OR break a habit" but honestly I find it to be seriously negative to be talking about breaking habits. I'm big on juju, and talk of breaking habits gives me bad juju. Instead of thinking of things like "I want to stop being lazy" I put it in more positive terms like "I want to be more active." It does SO MUCH for one's self esteem, believe me.

9. French people don't exercise, and it pisses me off. The summer I spent in France, I saw no gyms, no runners, nothing to give me any impression that the French were health-minded in anyway. But they're all so skinny and small! And it drives me up the wall how impeccably dressed they are in their long skirts and nylons with the piping in the back. No one really wears makeup and hair isn't a big deal, but they all look so good. I hate the French. I love the French.

10. I've been wearing my ADIpures for so long that I've forgotten what thick soled shoes feel like. I don't miss it. Also, barefoot running = BOSS.

ready, ready, ready, ready. ready to run.

So let me tell you a little story:

Before I met boyfriend I was running and doing pilates and jump roping, basically anything to fill the time between sleep and work (long story, but I wasn't in school at the time). I was in really good shape and I had been training for a 5k (I had picked out the perfect race, it was supposed to take place on my birthday in downtown Des Moines). It was sponsored by a beer company (Bud Light, Miller Light perhaps?) and the finish line led directly to the entrance of my favorite bar in town.

Hey, I was 21 at the time. My priorities were different then. Judge me.

But then I got sick, first it was strep that didn't go away for almost three weeks. Then, after insisting my way through the lobby at my doctor's office, I was finally seen by a different physician who gave me a shot of steroids and immediately set me up with an ENT specialist. Then, I had an emergency tonsillectomy/adenoidectomy. And thennnn, I got mono.

Mono is a great diet, by the way. If it wasn't for the risk of death and the general feeling of shittiness, I would do that again in a heartbeat.

I recovered by falling into the arms of a fellow food addict. Three and a half years later (and well over a combined 100 pounds gained), we're both in serious health trouble.



I think about all the things I want for myself when I finally manage to drop all the weight, and the only thing that comes to mind is an incident that happened last summer: It was the day I was diagnosed with idiopathic intracranial hypertension (say that five times fast). It was a Monday. I specifically remember wearing the drawstring khaki shorts I had just purchased from Old Navy with a black t-shirt and flip flops thinking that it was the best summer outfit I owned. I was being shuffled around the hospital, from neurology to radiology and back with much confusion. The radiology technician had to check my chart several times and she even went so far as to ask me twice how much I weighed.

Totally embarrassed.

Even worse: I came to find out that the purpose for this was that the MRI machine had a weight limit. I was dangerously close to that limit.

I spent half an hour in the MRI listening to bad pop music wondering what would happen if I moved too quickly, or if took in so much air that my body would start retaining weight in the form of oxygen and put me even closer to the weight limit. I also seriously regretted wearing shorts, wondering if the technicians were commenting on my cellulite from behind the one-sided mirror.

It. Was. Horrifying.

With my recent weight loss I've put almost 90 pounds between me and the MRI weight limit so I know beyond a doubt that my first horrifying experience with the MRI would not be repeated in the future. Because I'm better than that.

But as long as we're speaking honestly, I have to admit that I've encountered a 4-month slump. I've been stuck in the same 5 pound weight range since before Christmas and I honestly have no idea where to go from here.

Correction: had no idea where to go from here.

I knew going in that the elliptical would only take me so far. I'm proud of the work I've done, I've put on a crazy amount of muscle, my cardio endurance is out of this world, and I learned that I really like exercising. Needless to say, I am insanely proud of myself. But I knew eventually I would plateau and I would be forced to find another activity to keep me motivated and keep me skinny. Enter the treadmill.

Due to an unfortunate accident during physical therapy when I was rehabbing a knee injury at age 15, I have an unnatural fear of treadmills. And despite the fact that Baby Jesus has gifted the entire state of Iowa with history's mildest winter EVER, I'm not quite ready to tackle the beast known as outdoor running. Over the last four days I have been acquainting myself with the treadmill. Just a few steps at first, getting used to the motion of having a belt drag me along. In my first attempts, I intended to run half a mile but I only managed 0.3 in 5:00 (yes, that means I'm running a 16:40 mile... JUDGE ME).

BUT YESTERDAY...

Yesterday, OH MY GOD. I got to 0.3 without any trouble. So I took it to 0.5, no biggie. I said to myself, "Oh, how about ten minutes?" And then I did twelve. At twelve minutes, I said "oh fuck it" and ran the whole damn mile. It took me 16:42, BUT I FUCKIN' DID IT. Yes, that's totally deserving of an F-bomb.

Truth is, I could have run more, but 2pm breakfast wasn't agreeing with 3pm gym time so I opted for the safe route and avoided potential sickness and finished the rest of my workout on the elliptical. 1.5 miles in I realized how much of challenge I was NOT getting on the elliptical (as compared to RUNNING A FREAKING MILE) so I went up a level in resistance. My ass is certainly sore today, but I MISSED this.

I realized last night that the problems with my workout and the reason for my 4-month slump was that I wasn't pushing myself hard enough. I forgot that it's supposed to be uncomfortable sometimes. I forgot how great the triumphs felt, I forgot that you don't get triumphs like that without a little pain.

The rest of the night I could not get my mind of running. I wanted to do it again! There were several occasions last night that seriously tempted me to go back to the gym and run some more. In the end, I opted not to, and my outer thighs are thanking me today.

But for serious, I CAN'T WAIT TO RUN TODAY.

you ain't taking that from me.

Liz at one-twenty-five.tumblr.com is my new imaginary best friend. Well, she really exists, but she doesn't know that I exist or that I've decided we're perfect for each other in the BFFs-from-across-the-world sense.

I realized today that if I were to ever decide to take this blog public, it would never be popular because I write too much and there aren't any pictures.

I don't have time for pictures.

Shit, I don't even have time for anything.


I have been killing it in terms of eating. KILLING IT. Small portions, lots of fruits and vegetables, I only drink water or green tea (sometimes chai, in which case I'll have a splash of milk). No soda, no alcohol.

In the exercise department, things have been variable. I had a really great workout on Tuesday, but things have fallen apart since then. I had a situation to clarify before class yesterday so I had to cut out my after-work workout, and I spent all today sleeping because I was beyond exhaustion and I really don't feel like I need to justify it beyond that The sleep was necessary and I don't feel guilty for missing a workout over it.

Scale said 266 today. It said 265.5 yesterday. This is super duper encouraging because my BM is off and I'm ragging so I expect there's a small amount of bloat contributing to that number.

I'm going to say it, even though I hate having to say it: my goal for next Thursday is 262. That would make exactly 30 pounds for my appointment with the neuro. I need to stay motivated, because sometimes I get so caught up in thinking I'm fat that I forget that I'm also sick.

Sick trumps fat in the book of importance. True facts.



I'm really glad I never let anyone take my self esteem. It feels really good liking myself for who am I right now as opposed to who I'd like to be in the future.

before i get too old.

My first attempt at blogging today was a little preachy. So I erased it all and I'll stash it in my memory for a future time (read: never).

I've been snippy with boyfriend about his eating/exercising. My bad.

Despite all my laziness and indulgences these last six weeks (oh lord), I'm proud to say that I've been holding steady weight wise. My heart breaks for boyfriend when he eats ten tacos... for lunch. And he's still hungry. And he spends the rest of the afternoon trolling for "snacks" which ends up being entire bags of chips and six cans of diet coke.

I'd like to at least congratulate him for picking diet, but he has hypertension and I'm not sure diet coke is the way to go.


I'm starting to do that really annoying thing that girls do, where I look at something delicious and say "I'm going to have to run five/ten/eighty thousand miles to burn that off." The super cool thing that I learned about weight loss is that it takes approximately 3500 calories to lose a pound, and 3500 calories to gain a pound. So, being reasonable with math, let's assume that I'm taking in 2500 calories a day to maintain my weight (true story: I should be at 2700 for my height/weight, but I like multiples of 5's better), so in order to GAIN a pound I would have to eat 2500 PLUS 3500. 6000 calories is a lofty goal for a single day, non?

Don't get me wrong, I've done it before. But it's pretty hard to accomplish now when I can't even finish 20 ounces of green tea in less than 2 hours. Seriously, I've been working on this bottle ALL DAMN MORNING.



PS - I just downloaded the LoseIt App. Sometimes I feel stuck, and sometimes I feel like my progress is appropriate. I wouldn't mind having a clear guide on the issue.

it's better than i ever even knew.

So let me tell you how awesome I feel about my life right now:

New semester started on Tuesday. I think I might actually like my classes this year! It seems easier than ever, mostly because I've actually gotten a head start as opposed to taking things down to the due date. Simple wonders.

I have to drive to Cedar Rapids once a week for a class that I absolutely had to take, and it made me grumpy until I met the prof. He seems super awesome and I got to talk about panda bears on the very first day. A definite plus.

My weekly trip out of town is forcing me to do several things:
1. Go to bed early on Tuesdays
2. Stay motivated to finish my work ON TIME so I can leave at 3:00 exactly
3. Go to the gym immediately and get my sweat on
4. Shower
5. Make dinner
6. Visit my bestie for what I hope will become a weekly girls' night out!

My books have been ordered, I have already submitted my first assignments, my backpack has been packed, the Kindle has a new leather case. Basically, I'm on a roll.


Yesterday I was feeling especially unmotivated in the gym. I think it's the lack of sleep plus Jillian Michaels' challenge to do HIIT... it's really kicking my ass. I'm averaging about 11:30 per mile right now and it seems almost impossible to get down to the 10:40 I was at before. I did 2.17 miles (while watching 90210... cuz I'm awesome) before I called it a success and went home. It was barely 4:00 when I got home so I decided to make some dinner. I cut up all the ingredients for broccoli and chicken stirfry and set it aside for boyfriend to cook for himself later, but not before I cooked a bowl for myself. I was feeling especially proud of myself for being so domestic.

I made the drive to class, I would have been on time if I had been able to find parking sooner. It took me over half an hour to find my way back to the Interstate after class let out, but I think I know my way around now so it's all good. At home I decided my domestic streak wasn't over so I made some brownies... and they were AMAZING. Watched a few episodes of The Office before passing out at 11. All in all, a wonderful introduction to a busy semester.


Scale reads 266.5. I'm actually REALLY REALLY happy about this. it's been slow and a little frustrating knowing that I've been at a standstill since before Christmas, but my memory and this blog serve the purpose of reminding me of where I started and how much work it takes. The main commitment I've had to make in this weight loss journey is dedication and patience, and I know that if I hang on to those ideas I won't go wrong.

Dedication and patience. I can do this.

take me to the finish line.

I feel blah.

I thought January would be an inspiring month, between it being a new year and my upcoming visit with my neurologist. Something tells me I'm not going off Diamox anytime soon.

Last Monday I sensed a cold coming on, a few symptoms here and there but nothing too troublesome. On Wednesday, it was a full blown cold. My boyfriend's recent bout with bronchitis/pneumonia/death/whatever it was had me spooked and I decided to take it easy on my immune system.

A happy and unexpected series of events gave me the day off from work on Thursday which I spent napping and making soup. That's where my motivation died.

I think the last time I worked out was Tuesday, maybe even Wednesday? I've been indulging in all the wonderful food my fridge has to offer and taking every opportunity to couch-nap in the name of good health. I have gotten my money's worth out of this month's Netflix subscription price (and probably the three following months, too).

I haven't weighed myself, mostly because my BMs have been irregular and I ate half a pan of homemade rice krispie treats this weekend. Also, I don't like having this blah feeling and then attaching a number to it. Like all of a sudden, "blah" is defined by a number, which is silly because it doesn't erase all the good work I've done over the last few months.


I bought new clothes this weekend. I didn't really need them, per se, but I could use a boost in morale this week. Plus there was a sale, I just couldn't say no.

my oh my.

Oh dear god. I don't even know where to start.

The vacation part wasn't the problem, it's coming back from vacation and picking up the pieces that's stumping me.

Las Vegas:
I knew going in that exercising in Vegas wasn't going to happen. I was really unsure where we stood in terms of gym access at the hotel, not to mention that part of the trip was so short that I couldn't justify spending ANY of that time torturing myself in a gym. I was relying on good food choices and walking around the Strip to keep me from going overboard, and I think I did a good job?

Monday was a long day of airports and shuttles and standing in line. For breakfast I had one hashbrown from McD's, after the flight I had one 180 calorie Emerald nuts breakfast snack thing. We had dinner at a Brazilian barbeque, it was all-you-can eat and we ate tons, but since we had a looooong day of travel and virtually no meals we felt it was justified. We had water to drink at dinner, then I had one Bud Light Lime during the Mystère show.

Tuesday was brunch at the Carnegie Deli, I opted for matzo ball soup and a corned beef omelette sandwich on a toasted bagel (I only ate half). We walked around the casino floor, then to the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace, then around the Caesar's casino floor/Celine store/Coliseum. I had one 32 oz frozen Margarita, I didn't drink it all because boyfriend stole a chunk at the end. Before going to see Celine Dion, I ate the rest of my omelette bagel, and then we walked back to Caesar's. At the show I had a 16 oz Absolut vanilla and cranberry (probably cocktail... who knows). We decided to skip a formal dinner and instead shared two appetizers (nachos and three sliders), water to drink.

Wednesday we had lunch at Lotus of Siam, we shared the nam prik ong to start and I ordered the chicken pad thai. It was incredible food and I didn't even feel bad about wiping my plate clean.

Los Angeles.
We made the 4 hour drive from LV to LA on Wednesday night. After being in the car all day I was itching to get some exercise so I went to the gym immediately after checking in at the hotel. The elliptical machines are the same brand that I use at home but they were much newer models, but I felt like it would be a smooth transition. I didn't quite understand the touchscreen controls and somehow the machine was configured for dynamic level intervals, I couldn't figure out why I was unable to move faster than 55 RPMs and then I saw that I was working at a level 11. I'm not exactly sure how that happened because I definitely set it up to be at level 3. I got to 2.5 miles before I felt like I was going to die, I was proud of my progress and called it a success.

For dinner we went to a Korean barbeque, it was also all-you-can-eat, but unlike Samba in Las Vegas, we were afraid of this food. None of us knew what the side dishes were so the meal was heavy on the meat, and our group went through half a case of beer (although I did my best to stick to the flavored water). Afterwards we went to a Reggae club, I volunteered to be DD (mostly so the boys could get their drink on, but also to skip out on all the beer calories) but I did spend the night sipping on a 12 oz pear cider.

On Thursday we walked to and around Venice Beach, then we drove to the Santa Monica Pier and had lunch at Bubba Gump. Boyfriend and I shared the cajun shrimp appetizer, I had a Coronarita and the shrimper's haven. It was huuuuuuge and a really poor choice in terms of health food (everything was fried) but I was dying for deep fried shrimp and I just had to have it. We walked around the pier all afternoon before heading back to the hotel to enjoy the hot tub, and then I went to the gym. I think I did 2.5 miles again (? I can't remember) but this time I figured out the level controls. I set it at level 3 and it still kicked my ass. For dinner we had brats and potato salad at our friend's place, I drank 2 cans of Coors Light.

Friday was the wedding. Not much in terms of physical activity since we spent the day on a yacht. Dinner consisted of two salads, a dinner roll, a piece of pecan crusted soul fish, green beans, and a small slice of roast beef with horseradish sauce. I had 5 or 6 cranberry and vodka cocktails and one slice of banana nut cake. After the wedding I had another vodka cranberry and a glass of sangria, then we had a group dinner at a Mexican place down the street. I had a chile verde burrito, chips and salsa, boyfriend and I shared a pitcher of margaritas. Back at the hotel I drank a bottle of wine (rosé pinot grigio) while playing cards all night. Bad news.

I spent most of Saturday fighting off a nasty wine hangover. For lunch we had In-N-Out (#2 meal) and we drove back to Santa Monica and walked around Venice Beach for at least an hour. I did a little over 2 miles at the gym while watching Law and Order SVU (if my elliptical at home had a TV and constantly showed episodes of SVU, I'm convinced I wouldn't have a weight problem). For dinner we shared Korean wings and this pork sausage veggie dish thing, but there wasn't much to go around and we finished the meal feeling unsatisfied. Later that night we went out for pizza, boyfriend and I ate most of a 14" sausage and green pepper pizza.

Sunday was a travel day, we had a 4am wakeup for a 6:35am flight. We had to return the rental car and find our way around LAX. For breakfast I had an Emerald breakfast packet and water, then later that morning I had a green apple, orange juice, and a small chai tea latte. We landed in Des Moines around 1pm local time, after getting home my mom made a snack plate consisting of tortilla chips, beans, cheese, and salsa. For dinner we had brisket burritos with rice and beans and salsa and I seriously overindulged. It was just too good having a home cooked meal.


Returning to work on Monday was daunting because I was exhausted and I didn't want to admit that our vacation was over. It's hard to believe that just two days ago I was in California. Before I left last week, I cleaned out the fridge leaving us with virtually nothing (some old cheese, peeled garlic, and too much beer). I didn't even bother putting together meals for work, I settled on the idea of picking something up from the gas station. I went to the one closest to my work because I remembered seeing fruit on sale there once before. It was my plan to pick up some fruit, a granola bar, and a fresh deli sandwich and hope that it was balanced enough to get me through the day without crashing. Instead, there was no fruit, the breakfast bar section may as well have been labeled "candy" and the only thing close to fresh food were some hot dogs that had probably been sitting out all night. I frantically walked around trying to find items that had some nutritional value and the best I came up with was Honey Nut Cheerios (they didn't even have regular Cheerios!), 2% milk (no skim), and a bowl of Campbell's vegetable soup (containing almost half of the recommended daily sodium intake). Since my best attempt at healthy was a complete failure, I also picked up a Starbucks vanilla frappuccino.

Coming home from work, my body was hurting. Hurting from all the traveling, from having to unpack and settle back into life at home, hurting from lack of routine, hurting from sleeping in different places and eating at funny hours and walking on uneven sand (things you don't think about in Iowa). I convinced boyfriend to come home early after I finished at work, and then I napped for three hours. My parents were kind enough to send us back to Iowa City with the leftover brisket from Sunday night so I heated that up for tacos and made some rice and beans. It was absolutely incredible getting to cook again! And I made enough for leftovers so I'm thrilled to say that I'm not spending money on nutritionally devoid gas station food today.

The hardest part about leaving Las Vegas has been coming home and needing to unsubscribe from all the mailing lists I have been enjoying over the last seven months. Also, I'm having a really hard time convincing myself to take a look at the photos on my memory card, as if somehow moving them onto my desktop means that I have to let go of the fantasy.

I didn't want it to end.




Today, Jillian Michaels inspired me to try interval training. I've been living the last three months treating myself like I'm infirm, rehabbing myself from the debilitating condition known as obesity. Last night I was a little stir crazy and I took to stretching on the living room floor and I realized that I could place my bum on the back of my heels for the first time in recent memory... and even then I didn't feel like it was a deep enough stretch! I need a challenge, and today I know I'm capable.

Au revoir Quick Start, bonjour High Intensity Interval Training.

lullabies go on and on.

I met a friend for breakfast then headed to the gym directly after.

Note to self: eggs before the gym is a bad idea.

I did 3.05 miles in 35:00, it was slower paced because I still feel a little worn out from last night.

Note to self: maybe you should wait more than 12 hours between workouts.

If nothing else, it felt really good.


I walked to my rental property's office to drop off rent last night. The walk is up a huge hill and a set of stairs, so I had gotten in the habit of just driving to the office and skipping the hard part. But last night I was in the mood to walk. I didn't get winded, not in the slightest.

I love that even though the scale hasn't shown much progress lately, I feel better. Feeling better is the best.


22 hours until takeoff.

now it's time to dream, and dream how wonderful your life will be.

Good morning, 2012.

I went to the gym late after work, I went in fully thinking that this would be the last workout of 2011 and I intended to make it the best.

I managed 3.0 miles in 31:57 -- indeed, my best workout ever.

I looked at the clock... 12:45am. So I guess my attempt at ending 2011 with a bang actually turned into ringing in 2012 will some serious ass kicking.

Cheers to that.

If 31:57 is how the VERY FIRST DAY of 2012 starts, I cannot wait to see what this year has in store.

I'm going to forgo the resolutions for the year and instead renew my commitment to myself. I am worth it, and I deserve every ounce of effort.

One final workout until Las Vegas. I am so crazy looking forward to it. HAPPY NEW YEAR!